I Must Go Down To The Sea Again
by MeganMidnight
Summary: AU Once upon a time, Sheldon Sands met a voice in a cave. Warning langauge, violence
1. In Shadow

In Shadow

Megan@Midnight

Dark sunglasses reflect the ocean waves as a man walks down the shore. He wears boots and shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He dodges fishing lines and screaming children deftly but ignores the waves that run up the beach and over his tan leather boots. As the light fades, the beaches empty and Sheldon Sands walks on in the dark. Searching. 

It's nearly midnight before he finds the caves. He can hear the change in the water, changes in air movement. Sands puts on his gloves and picks his way carefully over rocks he can't see and has to navigate by feel. After a few minutes or hours, Sands can't tell anyway, the cave dries out and under his feet the ground begins to slope up hill. Sands keeps one hands lightly touching the wall to navigate. More time and a good long walk upwards before the slope evens out, flattens and Sheldon feels the edge of a doorway. He's been here before, when he was younger and he remembers the cavern, full of flickering crystal and burning lights. It's very dark now. He means to change that. He doesn't want to remember this place. He wants to see. He steps through the doorway and walks five steps to center of the room and waits. 

But not long. A voice comes out of the air. 

__

Are you lost?

"Yes." The same question as before. The only change is his answer. 

__

Why?

"I can't see." Trying to do my work, bring some balance to place that desperately needed it, make a little money. Get royally fucked over. 

__

Why?

"I trusted." That won't happen again. I fucking swear it. On the bitch's dead body. 

Who?

"The wrong person." Understatement of the century. 

__

Why? 

"I don't know. I just did." 

__

What do you want?

"The world. Again." 

__

Did you lose it? 

"No. It was taken from me." I'm taking it back. 

__

Why? 

… Not thinking about it, not thinking about. 

__

Why?

"I saw too much." Can't think about, won't fucking remember that my last bit of the world was that fucker Barillo, and his nutcase doctor. And her. So fucking glad I shot her. 

__

What do you need?

"My EYES!" Why the fuck do you think I'm here?!

__

Are lost. 

"I want them back." Can't stand all this darkness. Can't, can't, can't take this any longer.

__

They are gone. 

"I need them." I need, I need, I must. 

__

They are gone. Move on. 

"I can't." Please, I can't 

__

You must. What do you need?

"My sight, my eyes, my fucking life!"

__

What will you give? 

"Everything." Anything! Please, please make this stop!

__

Done.

Sheldon Sands blinks. It's shock. It's been four months since Mexico. Four long dark months of pain and, though he is loathe to admit it, fear. He can see. He can see! The light from the crystals is blindly bright, beautifully blindingly bright, and it makes him almost weep at the sheer miracle of light. 

"Thanks." 

__

Do you know who I am? The voice is soft and androgynous, but it echoes in this place. 

"No." Sands says and he doesn't. He never had any idea, though he searched through books on the history of this place, this city, after the first time. 

__

Do you want to know?

"No. To be completely honest, I don't fucking care." Sheldon continues staring around the cavern, but he doesn't move from the center of the room. 

__

You've changed. The voice sounds almost disappointed.

"No, I haven't." He know it's true. 

__

No, you haven't. The voice agrees. _Have you learned?_

"Yes." 

__

What? 

"That Agent Ajedrez was a fucking psychotic bitch!" 

__

Beyond that. The voice sounds amused. 

"I was dead." Sheldon can't repress a shudder at the thought of the last four months. "She killed me. She fucking killed me!" 

__

Yes. 

"I was so lost." Sands know this is true. No lies here. No manipulation. Only the truth here. 

__

I found you. 

__


	2. In Light

**__**

In light  
Chapter 2 of In shadows  
Sometimes I wish I could write normal things. Or better things.   
  
  
In Shadows  
  
Chapter 2: In Light  
  
Megan@Midnight  
  
It was a bright morning in Fort Fisher, North Carolina, when Sheldon Sands: late of Mexico, recently eyeless, currently an MIA CIA agent presumed dead, stepped out of the sea cave and into sunlight. He'd stayed in for the rest of the night, in a cave with cool voice, glowing crystals, and a pair of gloriously brown eyes. He'd found on his way out that it took three hours to get down and out according to his watch. The fact that he could finally see his watch was enough to keep him smiling through the long dark of the tunnel out. That and the indiglo feature.  
  
Sands takes a deep breathe of sea air; salt, sand, and the ever present dead fish smell. The tide is just coming in and he slips over the rocks with boots and gloves tight on the sharp, mussel-strewn rocks. He knows from experience the razor edges those damn shells had. He's used it before. The leather is ruined but it's well worth it.  
When he hits the beach, he takes a long look at the ocean. Takes off his sunglasses and screams "FUCK OFF!" Throws them as far into the water as he possibly can. Gulls scatter every which way, shrieking and very likely cursing him in seagull. Sheldon laughs like madman.   
  
It's a beautiful day, already seventy degrees and that's right on the water. It'll ninety by three o'clock and Sheldon's already planning a long walk about then. Maybe on campus. It's dry heat, same as in Mexico but there's no substitute for the sea winds.  
  
It's been a long time since he's been on these beaches. This is a rocky shoreline, dominated by cochina clams, or at least their former homes. Tiny little things that build into huge yellow orange rocks. Often with the sharp edge black mussels on them. Sands runs finger over the edge of one, and watching himself bleed.   
  
"Shel! Hey, Seashel!"  
  
Sheldon Sands glared at the sand beneath his feet. He didn't look up at Georgie Hawkins, a large blonde eight year old, who was walking up to him. Sands, at seven, was beginning to hate his given name.   
  
He clenched his fists in an effort not to strike at the older boy, which given his small frame would result in a beating from the second grade's bully. "Hey, Seashel! I'm talking to you." Sheldon's face twisted in fury.   
  
"I've told you not to call me that." It's a soft dangerous snarl.   
  
Georgie's a bit too stupid to recognize a threat when he hears it. "Aww… are you gonna cry? Poor little Seashel Sands," the bigger boy taunted.  
  
"No." Sands says, and it's impossible not to hear the threat now. He raises his head and brown eyes meet hazel. The situation could have gone very badly for Sands, but right then the boys' teacher showed up.   
  
"Georgie, you are supposed to be with your buddy. Who is over there, not overhere." She points and Georgie huffs under his breathe and walks off, leaving Sheldon with Miss Latimer. She sighs. "Sheldon, we've talked about this. You can't keep wandering off. You have to stay with your buddy. It's not safe."   
  
"Yes Ma'am." Sheldon's heard it all before. His buddy, a boy chosen at random, was with a group of his friends. Sheldon picked his buddies for their ability to stay out of his way and leave him to free to explore as he wished. No one in the class would have said no to him. Most were too afraid. There was something a bit scary about Sheldon, the way he moved and spoke. Georgie was the only one who thought it was weakness.   
  
"Go on now." Miss Latimer walked him back to the group of friends his buddy was with and let them be. Sheldon ignored the other boys and ran his eyes over the rocks. The bright cochina shells mixed with much darker and larger mussel shells. Sheldon leaned down and ran a finger over the broken edge of a mussel shell. Blood welled up, and Sheldon smiled.   
  
The next day he's out by the sand box at recess when Georgie comes after him again. There's a large hand on his shoulder and a stupid voice behind him. "Whatcha doing, Seashel?"  
  
Sands ducks out from under the hand and turns to face the older boy. "I'm waiting. And don't call me that. My name is Sheldon. Not Shel, or Seashel. Sheldon. It's not really that hard a name."   
  
Georgie smiles, opens his mouth and says, "Yeah, gonna make me, Seashel?"   
  
Sheldon moves like lightening. His hand flashes out and suddenly twin cuts appear on Georgie's face, running from cheekbone to chin. His face begins to pour blood and when he claps his hands to the long deep cuts, he starts to scream in pain. Sheldon smiles calmly. "Yes." He walks off the mussel shell in his hand, gleaming black, broken edge glinting blood red.   
  
When Miss Latimer comes to speak with him later, the shell is long gone. Sands has ground it to powder and scattered it in the sand. Quick and easy disposal. Evidence gone. When she asks what happened, he says he doesn't know, that he's been here the whole time, and that Georgie must have fallen or something. And Miss Latimer believes him, because he's the good one. Quiet and keeps to himself but the good one all the same. Never any trouble.   
Sheldon Sands watches the blood on his hand as he walks up the beach. Remembers the first blood he ever drew. Grins.   
  
Steals a pretty silver Corvette when he gets up to the road and drives off. 


	3. In Flames

I Must Go Down to the Sea Again

Chapter 3

In Flames

Megan@Midnight

Sheldon Sands smells like smoke. Not the smell of his hand rolled cigarettes but wood smoke, pure smoke. Sheldon Sands smells like flames. Burning and heat and fire and a hint of cinnamon. It's acrid and distracting and so very hot. He attracts with one hand and repels with the other. One of the others. 

Sheldon Sands smells like smoke when he walks into the CIA headquarters in Langley VA. Where he goes time stops. People stop and stare at him. Agent Sands is a well-known figure in the CIA. Everyone knows him, either from working with him or by reputation. Most of the agents who know him personally take a step back out of his way. Agent Sands smiles as he strides through the lobby. 

It's four months and three days since the Day of Dead. It's been three dayssince he was called home. It's been two days since he went to a cave on the seashore. It's been one day since he regained everything. It's been ten hours since he stole a silver 'Vette in Wilmington, North Carolina. It's been five minutes since he walked into this building. It's been too long since he walked these halls. 

Nearly three years to be exact. Sheldon Sands has always been very exacting in his life. Didn't save him but it's a hard habit to break from. When he l last walked these halls he was being sent to Mexico. Keep the peace, keep control, create balance from chaos. And he did. And for that, his own people left him to burn in the fires of a riot, a failure, a world of chaos. In the dark and alone. And he did. 

And now he's going to rise from the ashes. Sands is smiling all the way up the stairs four stories high. He nods to Linda the secretary as he walks past. "Sir, you can't just walk… Agent Sands?" She stares at him as he turns to her. He's been here before, first to be reprimanded and four times for commendations. Linda is still staring at him. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Lin." 

"They said you were dead." 

Sheldon smiles a little wider. "I was. I got better." When she just stares at him, he turns and walks through the hardwood door. Without knocking. 

Paperwork and power. The office reeks of it. James Ross is sitting behind his desk obviously in the middle of something but he jerks his head up when the door opens. "Who do think you are… Sands!" 

"Yep, that's who I think I am." 

"We though you died in Mexico. Where have you been?"

"My own personal funeral pyre." There's a flash, pain and darkness. Burning agony where his eyes should be. Lancing fires in his arm and leg, the sun soaking into his clothes. Fire covering him, flames inside him. He's being burned alive in the dusty street. 

"Have you lost your mind?" 

Sheldon Sands smells like smoke and burning. "No." He takes a short bladed knife out of his jacket. "My life." He runs the knife over the papers on the desk. Ross is reaching a hand down presumably for his gun. "Don't do that. I'd hate to have to kill you. 

"If you aren't here to kill me, why the fuck are you here?"

Sands slides the knife deep into the wooden desk. "I'm here for my assignment." He leaves the blade in and lifts his hands up, smiling cheerily. 

"What?" Sheldon finds true amusement in seeing his boss disconcerted for the first time ever. 

"I'm here for my next assignment. I needed to little R and R after the little fiasco in November. But I feel all better now, and I'm here to get my next assignment."

"You must be joking."

"I'm perfectly serious. I know I've been gone a while, but I'm sure I'll be back in the swing of things in no time." Sands keeps the cheery smile on the whole time while he's talking. Freaking out his boss is a bit of well-deserved fun. He's planning a bit more but first he needs his assignment. 

"Well…" James is recovering fast. He'd have to in his position. "You realize we'll need you to stay here for while. You known how it is. You have been missing for over four months."

"No." 

"What did you say?"

"No. You'll give me my assignment and I'll go away and not mention the fact that on someone's order I was left on my own in the middle of a fucking firestorm. Someone who really could only have been you." His smile's gone a bit colder now. 

James is a bit pale now. Sheldon Sands is a dangerous man, very good at what he does and his boss knows it. Sands has thought often that's why he was left to die in good old Mexico. It probably was. "Well, we could use an agent in…"

"Mexico." Sands interrupts. "You could use me in Mexico." 

Ross flushes just slightly. Sands is still amused. "Mexico?"

"Mexico." Sands turns to leave and stops. "I'll be here in th morning. You leave whatever you need me to sign with Linda. Oh, and I hope you feel better soon."

"Agent Sands, what the hell are you talking about?" Ross is honestly confused. Sadds pulls his gun and shoots the man twice. One in the right hand, one to the left foot through the desk. 

James shrieks loudly. Sands grins. "Do not fuck with me. Ever again." And walks out. 

CIA Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands smells like smoke and cinnamon. In Mexico he died in the sun, burning to ashes, blood on his face and fire under his skin. In Mexico he will rise again. 


	4. In Life

In Life   
  
By Megan@Midnight  
  
CIA Sheldon Jeffrey Sands breezed through customs like a falcon through a city street. Beauty with the look of a hunter and a scent of death, heat, and cinnamon. It was hot and dusty and bright. Sheldon considered getting out his sunglasses but he doesn't. He managed to pack them, but he can't seem to wear them. "Fuck it."   
  
"Things to do, people to see, places to burn…" Sands smiled as he walks through the streets. "Now I lay me down to die, burn with ashes in my eyes, now I rise up from the ash, and grind these fuckmooks into dust!" Sands received a few bemused glances from the people around him, but most ignored the crazy American man in the stupid T-shirt and shorts, talking to himself. Sands loves this country. Anything you want, you can take. Well so long as you don't spill your plans to the psycho secret daughter of the guy you're trying take down. "Yeah, that was a bit of an Oops on my part." He muttered softly and laughed.   
  
A week later there were fires in Culiacan. The palace, the square, a little restaurant and a building where a man had once had his eyes gouged out burned. The fires weren't put out for days. They burned white hot and furious. The firefighters pronounced it arson with incendiary devices. No witnesses could be found, though a few people were found shot around the areas that burned. In the restaurant one of those killed was the cook, who'd been shot three times in the chest.   
  
Two weeks after Sands arrived in Mexico he got a phone call from The. Well, a message from The anyway listing a date, time, and place. Sands beat the man there by nearly thirty minutes. He wanted to be set up and ready for anything.   
  
Sands mentally titled the evening in his head, 'Dining and Dialogue with El Mariachi.' After all, El was a legend and legends deserve books and movies and catchy themes and titles. And bright red tights. Sheldon snickered quietly to himself at the image of The in red tights and a Superman cape. He was still smiling when El walked in and sat across from him. 

  
"You live."

  
"I do." 

  
"It was said that a man in black died on the streets that day. The people said that man was blind, that his eyes had been torn out of his head by Barillo and that he rose up and took his revenge on the woman who betrayed him to the cartel." 

  
Now Sands grins at El. "All true. And aren't we mister chatty today?" 

  
"You seem very alive for a dead man."

  
"I got better. And I could say the same about you."

  
"You could." 

  
"Want me to tell you a story, mister guitar fighter?"

  
"No." 

  
"Well, too bad, cause I'm going to tell you anyway. It goes something like this. Once upon a time a little boy named Sheldon Jeffrey Sands was walking on beach. And he walked and walked and walked some more. And then he came to hole in rocks. Being a curious little boy, Sheldon decides to go in. And it's dark but he's not afraid. And he walks for a very long time in the dark. And then there's a light. And there's in this cave and little Sheldon knows that's not right. Doors don't belong in caves. So he goes in. And there's this voice and it says 'Are you lost?' and he says 'No'. But that's not where this story ends. Once upon a time in Mexico a CIA Agent named Sheldon Jeffrey Sands was trying to bring a little balance to a country. And he was betrayed, by… well, lots of people really but mostly by a woman named Ajedrez who was actually the daughter of his enemy. And in her betrayal of this man she took his eyes and left him to die. And he did. He died in the street."

  
"Barillo has a daughter." El tensed at that, looking worried. 

  
Agent Sands shook his head. "No, Barillo had a daughter. I may have been dead, but I made sure she went with me. And don't interrupt. You'll ruin the story." Sands paused for a minute to recover his train of thought. "Anyway. This man, this dead man, he wanders as a ghost for a very long time. Eventually he wandered back into that cave. And the voice said 'Are you lost?' and the man said 'Yes.' And the voice found him and brought him back to life." 

  
"Why?" Sands was mildly surprised that El didn't question the story, but then, Sands thought, he probably thought I was nuts before this. 

  
"Because it wanted him." 

  
"And you paid for your eyes, your life?" 

  
"No yet." 

  
"The price must be heavy."

  
"Not as heavy as being surrounded by darkness forever. I've been in the dark before, but this time I was dead. No price too high to lift that."

  
"When do you pay this price?" 

  
"Payment is due very soon, and I'm always punctual." Cold smile, eyes like the bottom of the ocean. 

  
  
"What price did you pay for your eyes?" 

  
"What I had to." 

  
"You sold your soul?" 

  
"Maybe I sold yours, El old pal." 

  
"Either tell me or do not." 

  
"I'd show you, but I don't think you could see it anyway. And you called me remember." 

  
"Do not play games with me." 

  
"But that's the fun part of all this. I can." 

  
"I could kill you." 

  
Fingers of the right hand tap the table restlessly. The left hand is very still. "Maybe." Quirky smile stable on Agent Sands' lips. 

  
"You started the fire. In Culiacan." 

  
"Maybe. And it was fires plural."

  
"How many have died because of you?" 

  
"Just me." Tiny shift of the lips. Black-chipped eyes. 

  
El gets up and starts to leave. Sands waved at his back and said, "See you around." El Mariachi froze in his tracks. Looked back at the grinning CIA agent and left going just a bit quicker than he came in. Sands grinned after him. 

  
Two days later he arrived at the shore. Climbing rocky shoreline different and yet very much same as Wilmington. It's barely an indentation in the rocks but a voice inside him says _Stop_.  
"This do for you?" 

  
_Yes._

  
"Okay then. Get out."

  
_Done. _

  
And there's a rush like wind from a firestorm, burning and pain and heat and movement. And Sands is free. Free finally of the thing he's been carrying inside since he got his eyes back. Free to walk the streets and not have to listen to shadowy whispers saying _"There's one. And there. And there…"_ every time he sees someone. 

  
"Happy now?" 

  
_Yes._

  
"Why did you want to leave?" And why did you pick me?" 

  
_I didn't. _

  
"Well, you did." 

  
_No. I am as I always was. Here. _

  
"What about..." 

  
_I am still there. And here. _

  
"Oh. I see." 

  
_Yes, you do. _

  
"Why here? What do you want here?" 

  
_To find._

  
"Find what?" 

  
_The lost. You were found. There are so many others to find._

  
"Ahh. Well then, I'll leave you to it." 

  
And Sheldon Jeffrey Sands of the CIA left his savior/burden to itself and walked back up the beach. He had a job to do after all. And this country was crying out for his kind of balance. He hoped he'd see The again. The man could be very useful if he could only get the right leverage. "And I will. I will." After he's Agent Sheldon Sands, He'd come back from the dead, anything else would be just a piece of cake.   
  
  



	5. In Dust

In Dust

By Megan@Midnight

Sheldon Jeffrey Sands has been in Mexico for nearly a month and half. He's had some fun, but it's time to get back to work. Mexico isn't going to balance itself, after all. He does have a job after all. But he also has needs. He needs El Mariachi, well he wants El Mariachi. El was the one who help fuck up his little plans last time, now he's going help. If Sands can ever figure out how to make him. 

"I could just kill everyone you've ever met, but then you'd just kill me and that just doesn't do it for me. What does it take, El? How do I get inside your head? How do I make you do what I want?" Sands ponders this for a minute, sitting in a dirty little restaurant, fingers tapping random patterns on the tabletop. And he has an epiphany. "Well, that was obvious. By making it what you want. Obvious. Should have done that the first time." He shook he head at the nonexistent mariachi sitting across from him. "But then I didn't think you wanted anything. I thought you were dead. I missed that little spark, didn't I ? My bad, really." Sheldon Sands laughs quietly as his food arrives. "Now I know better." 

CIA Agent Sheldon Sands is making his presence known in Mexico. He burned Culiacan (part of it anyway), annoyed a mariachi, and left the payment for his eyes in a hole in rocks on a Mexican beach. Now he has a country to balance and a mariachi (the mariachi) to play with. Let the games begin. 

Sands has found, or paid for, a little theater in a little town that's playing what he wants to see. And that's close enough to bring his friend out of the woodwork again. "And here he is," he says as El stands at the edge of row of seats and looks down at him. "The legend himself." 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Hmm… Well, El let's think about this. I'm in a movie theater. I bought a ticket, got some popcorn, didn't shoot the attendee cause it's not really that good and I've claimed a seat. Looks like I'm here to watch a movie."

"You are not." 

"Am so. Care to join me?" 

"Not really." 

"Shame. At least sit down, you're blocking the row." 

The mariachi sat, though he managed to look really grumpy about doing it. 

"Why are you here?" 

"We've been over this. Here to see a movie."

"You are not." 

"Okay fine, I'm here because I forgot."

"You forgot?"

"Yep. I forgot you are a very dangerous man." 

"That is true."

"Won't happen again." Quirky little smile.

"Why did you bring me here?" 

"You followed me." Sands grins at him  
"You wanted this meeting. You planned this." 

"I did. That's what I do. But you still followed me." 

"Why me?" 

"You're a legend. I like that." 

"You want me to kill someone."

"Not unless you really want to, no." Sands smirks at El. "Right now I don't want anything from you."

"You are a liar."

"I might be. But think back. I never lied to you. I told you exactly what was going to happen and what I wanted from you." He's right and El knows it. "Didn't I?"

"You did." It's said through clenched teeth. Sands is pleased. Getting El to admit that Sands never lied. He manipulated, but El knew exactly what was expected of him when he agreed to it. That's the best part. 

"That's right. You screwed my pretty plan to powder, but you joined me of your own free will." 

"That will not happen again."

"Yes it will." 

"No. This is the last meeting I will have with you."

"Wanna bet?" 

"Yes." 

"Now El, buddy we both know that isn't true. You've seen what I can do; you've heard what I did. We dead men have to stick together." 

"I am not dead."

"Neither am I. But I was. And so were you." "That's why we keep meeting like this. You can't not keep an eye on me." 

"You also are a dangerous man." 

"Not to you." 

"To Mexico." 

"It's possible. I'm also necessary and we both know it." 

"That is not true." 

"I don't why you insist on calling me the liar. I don't make agreements with people then break then just because I've been resurrected. Shoot my boss in the foot, yes. Break my word, no." 

"I do not believe that you are necessary for anything." 

"Oh, that hurts me El. It really does. Right through the heart." 

"You have no heart." 

"Oh I do. If you want to get into souls that's a different issue, but I have a heart. Want to hear?" Sands leans toward The. 

El glares at him. Sands has to fight off a giggle at the look El is giving him. It's great. And that voice. "No." 

"Didn't think you would." Sands turns around in his seat as the lights go dim. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Watching the movie. Do you mind?" 

"This is ridiculous. I don't know why I bothered to meet you."

Sands watches El leave, walking quietly in the dark. "I do." His smile is amused and cold, his voice is smooth and soft. The mariachi is struggling for control. He doesn't have it. He's a good man and Sands knows it. He may be a killer and very dangerous, but he is a good man. And that's how Sands will take him. Because Sands is not a good man. And he likes control. And he's more than willing to take it. Especially of people who like to fight the good fight. It's better that way. Makes the game so much more fun. He's going to use El until he break, until he cracks and crashes and falls. He is going to grind El into the dust, all his morals and his legend and everything he thinks he is. Right into the dusty hot, dirty streets. 


End file.
